


kings and queens of dirt and light

by earlofcardigans



Series: dirt and light [3]
Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-31
Updated: 2010-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-18 14:37:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/562134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlofcardigans/pseuds/earlofcardigans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She smiles then, and Bob is sure he's in trouble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	kings and queens of dirt and light

Lindsey sits down next to him, and Bob doesn't even have to wait for her to try to get his attention before he's ignoring whatever he was watching on tv and following her movements as she tucks her hand under her hair and leans on her elbow. He moves closer and trails one of his fingers, big and ugly next to her white, white skin and doesn't say anything when she tilts her head like she can hear what he's thinking.

When he looks at her again, she's smiling at him in that way she has that's just for him. Bob learned it pretty early on. It was weird and kind of jolting, and he had squirreled it away thinking that no one else was going to know that Lindsey made him that bubbly and explosive under his skin, like Bob was a science experiment under glass and Lindsey was dreaded oxygen.

The only other person that had made him ever feel weird under his skin was Gerard, and while that had turned out well, Bob didn't want to think at the time he could count on any sort of streak.

Lindsey taps the fingernails of her hand, some blood red and some bitten off, against his leg and says his name, low and insistent.

"Sorry."

"It's okay." She smooths her hand over his forehead, sits up briskly and shakes her head, though, and says, "I think we should talk about Gerard. He's working too much. Already. Too much work. It's not even two weeks into the year. What are we going to do to fix him, Bob?"

She smiles then and Bob is sure he's in trouble. He sends mental signals to Gerard to run far and fast if he's around because Lindsey looks like she already has a plan and that that plan is devious.

"I'm going to regret this, aren't I?" Bob sighs when she laughs loud and bright and shrill.

"Trust me, Bob. Don't you? Trust me?" Lindsey gets up and starts tugging him off the couch. Bob shakes his head like the death march is playing. She laughs again. "You've never regretted a single thing we've done since you met me. Admit it. Go on. Fucking say it."

Bob sighs, but it's long-suffering and put-upon. He backs Lindsey up against the wall and says into the skin where her neck curves into her shoulder, "Every damn day. I regret everything every damn day."

She laughs this time, low and husky, and clenches a hand in his hair.  
;;

"I am not budging until you give in to my demands." Gerard twirls in his desk chair to face her, raises both his eyebrows since he's not her or Bob and hell, definitely not Mikey.

Lindsey comes farther into his room and pushes some of his papers around. She looks closer at a few of them, stacks them away from the others. Gerard lets the smile cloud over his eyes as he notices the one of her and Bob she takes, the one of the snapdragons eating Mrs. Poulson's dog, the one of the two of them with entwined hair.

"Gerard? You are not a photographer." She stands in between his open knees, braces herself on his thighs, locks her elbows so her face is over his.

"I could be." He knows he sounds like he's pouting.

He tried very hard to never sound like that with Lindsey in the beginning. Until he realized that the only other person he could sound like that with was Lindsey. He didn't pout at Bob. Sometimes he tried at Mikey, but it always worked out that Mikey was younger and better at pouting. But Bob had taken so much of what Gerard was already, had been everything that held up the core of how Gerard needed to live that he found he couldn't pout at Bob, not when he looked at him and knew that Bob would get pissed because he was hurt that Gerard would try or get pissed because he was pissed.

Gerard pushes Lindsey's hair behind her ear, pulls it out with his pinky finger and does it again. "I could be," he says again. "Will you sit for me?"

"I'm not dressing up like your skank vampire girlfriend for a photoshoot. So no. I won't. And yeah. You could be. But that's not the point. The point is that you take the pictures to remind you where you were and what you were doing." Lindsey ducks her head to look directly into his eyes. She frames his face with her hands, and Gerard just stares at her until his vision is blurry and she looks like a shaft of light, feels like a breeze holding him. "The point is to remember who you were with."

He leans close and kisses all her shiny lipgloss off.

When she steps back, she licks her lips and then runs her thumb over his bottom lip. "The point is that you draw the emotion. You just aren't good with a camera. You don't know how to steal souls."

"Who says?" He tries for teasing, and he fails with the ragged whisper he can hear his voice drop into.

"You're pretty good at hearts. Not breaking 'em." He follows her sassy walk to the door of his room, and when she turns around, he blows her a kiss for no reason. He fully expects the round giggle he gets in return.

"So what you're saying is, I'm not a photographer." Gerard looks at his camera and thinks it has a case around here somewhere.

Lindsey walks through the door, but leans back around, just a head and half a shoulder, and corrects him, "What I'm saying is. We should go bowling."

Gerard's surprised laughter trails after her into the hallway.  
;;

"What are you doing?" Bob sneaks up behind him and Gerard almost drops whatever he's holding. He hadn't meant to turn on stealth mode, but now he thinks that Gerard is just super engrossed and wasn't paying attention anyway.

"There's a macro setting on this camera and dead ladybugs. I was trying to get them to work together, but the harmonies aren't right." Gerard shrugs out of that thought and looks up at him. Bob waits as it takes a while for all of Gerard's cogs to slide into place to equate Bob with good and morning and hi and coffee and kissing.

"Ladybugs are signs of mold. We should get the house inspected," Bob says after Gerard has drank his coffee and Bob's and given Bob the camera so he can take pictures of their feet propped one on top of the other on the coffee table in just the way Lindsey hates. She says that's why they have ottomans. Bob thinks about waking her up, but she's been tired, more than usual, and Gerard is extra everything this morning. She doesn't need that yet. She'll get her turn later.

"I like green ladybugs. Do you think they get made fun of? Or made like, fucking kings and shit of the dirt mounds." Gerard puts his cold nose under Bob's chin, on the one place where he's not covered up by hoodie, and makes him shiver. Bob wraps his arm tighter around Gerard.

"I don't know. I guess they're like redheaded people? We don't make redheaded people kings and queens because they have red hair." Bob shrugs his knees.

"No. We used to kill them. Burn them for devil children." Gerard sounds sleepy again, and Bob thinks about all the times they have sat on this and any other couch and fallen asleep together or with Lindsey and woken up and not known which limbs belonged to them anymore, a weird, connected, unbroken sort of knot.

"You know the creepiest shit." Bob tucks down closer to him and puts his lips in Gerard's hair just to remind himself that it's there.


End file.
